


Fiendish

by neckless



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom!Sam, Explicit Language, F/M, Hair Pulling, One Shot, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, oh and he slaps her once, slight dub-con, telepathic reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:23:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neckless/pseuds/neckless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader has the ability to telepathically project thoughts into other’s minds. And after having way too much destructive fun with her talents she finds herself being hunted. Shame she doesn’t know her prey for the evening is the man who wants her dead, but Sam's unable to see past the carnal desires vibrating through his psyche, just as clueless... Or maybe she's playing right into his game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fiendish

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is the first time I've written a One-Shot (let alone a smutty one) in years, or ever for the SPN community. Feedback would be totally bomb. Feel free to request stuff in my tumblr inbox [.neckless] :'D 
> 
> (This is a lot more rough and dirty than I had anticipated, and a lot more dom!Sam than I was originally intending, but his fondness for monsters tends to get him in trouble so I feel like maybe there'd be some frustration for himself succumbing to it again, so he'd take it out on the reader. Or maybe I'm just justifying my own perversions?? Anyway I hope you enjoy it >3)

Three drinks to try and forget that you’re being hunted, just three and you’ll be on your way. That’s what you try to tell yourself as you stand at the bar waiting to make another order, just one more, just three and you’ll be able to sleep tonight. Maybe, maybe if you get the chance. Maybe, if they don’t find you a string you up like you heard they do to people with afflictions like yours. Af-flic-tion, you pronounce the word in your head over and over as if it will give you some peace of mind, as if you can tell yourself that it’s the disease that’s eating at you, it’s the disease that’s making you do these things to people. But it’s not, it’s really  _really_  not, it’s just a game, and it's  **fun**.

You get really tired of just standing there waiting for the bartender to notice you, so you decide to (once again) use your natural “affliction” to your benefit. You close your eyes just briefly to imagine yourself standing at the bar, hip popped, lips curved into a smirk. You imagine yourself saying, “Maybe we should get out of here.” and then winking to add effect. When you open your eyes you push the thought out of your head and send it across the room. Watching as he quickly grabbed two beers for the men who had just walked in, then hurry over to you. Maybe he can see the manipulative gleam in your eye, or maybe he just assumes that you’re fulfilling his fantasy, but he barely bats an eye when you ask for two more Jack and Cokes. Two more, just two. Just four to forget.

You had almost forgot, for a moment, that they were after you. Not just you, you and your best friend. And you keep trying to forget that you only have yourself to blame, by doing things like this. By taking advantage of people, by having just  _way_  too much fun. You found your best friend, your partner in crime, a few months back. And since then everything had turned to chaos. Not too sure who to blame, not sure who was the first one to say, “Let’s rob a bank,” or, “Let’s get this guy to give us his car,” or, “Let’s destroy for the fun of it.” But you brought out the best in each other, you’d say. Though other’s, I’m sure, would say you’d only made each other worse.

But really what it was, you were born with what could be a curse, what had been, and you’d been trying to smile through it, and found someone to smile through it with. For just two more beers, maybe just one more night.

Your friend looked at you when you got back to the table, head slightly cocked and eyebrows raised, “Uhhh, Y/N ?”

You brought your head back in feigned surprise, “Bitch, you know they’re both for me.”

She laughed lightly, her mouth forming a silent ’ _Oh_ ’, before rolling her eyes, and herself out of the booth to get her own refill.

You guess it would have been polite if you’d gotten her another, but honestly, it just didn’t come to your mind. There was already too much there, gnawing and eating away at you. Sometimes you wished that there was an escape, that your ability to channel minds was a two way street; that you could just sit back and relax and listen to someone else’s thoughts the way you could force them to see yours.

Finding yourself spiraling into loops of one bad thought after another, you look around the bar for your friend. Finding her using her own ‘God’ given talents, by shifting her body into one that was more ass-thetic, trying her own hand at getting the busy barkeeps attention. You notice, though, that’s not the only attention she’s attracting. The two men that entered a few minutes ago are conversing amongst each other, with both sets of eyes dancing over her figure, obviously talking about what they’d like to do to her. You giggle to yourself, unable to help it, men are just  _too_  easy, aren’t they? You give them a little taste of just exactly what they want and they forget about every other ideology they might have.

Apparently she notices too, because she’s got her glass in her hand and she’s moving quickly to the other side of the bar. You sigh heavily, although amused by her actions, still very bored yourself. You decide, maybe you should join her. There are two of them, after all. There’s no need for checking yourself when you can project images and thoughts into people’s heads, there’s really no need to worry that you’ll ever go home alone. It’s a strange line to find yourself dancing on, but goddamn do you love to move your hips to the beat of this game.

Your friend takes your hand graciously, as if she knows your coming (she does, you ‘warned’ her), and introduces you to the men she’s been chatting up. “Dean,” she raises her hand to touch the side of the shorter one’s neck just slightly with the outside of her fingernails, subtly making claims before nodding her head over to the other guy, “and Sam.”

You bit your lip playfully, not sure if she was taking what she wanted or giving you what you wanted. Because  _shit_  he was your type. Almost too tall, broad chest, long brown hair, and eyes that had the devil in them. It actually sort of surprised you that you didn’t come over here first. You definitely saw them walk in, but you didn’t seem to care much, then. How could you not have noticed this opportunity waving itself in front of you? But now the question was, how could you help yourself? When you could have any man you wanted, and tonight your game was  **him**. “Sam, I’m Y/N ,” you say, ignoring Dean without meaning to, and holding out your drink for a cheers instead of a handshake, “To the night!” You shout, clinking with the rest of your party and downing your whole drink, ready to forget that you were, in fact, being hunted for the kill. And completely aware that this could be your last night at the party in this perception, so fuck it. Fuck your five drink minimum and fuck giving a shit for the first time in years, right before it wouldn’t matter anymore.

Might as well burn yourself so damn hot you scorch the earth on your way out. Might as well feed the flame, might as well use your whole bag of tricks to send your soul into the afterlife with good last memories. Might as well fulfill your own fantasy. And right now he was 6'5" of intoxication and just waiting for you to fill his head with dirty little thoughts of you. The hunger in his eyes was one you recognized, and you knew you didn’t really  _have_  to fuck with him to get him to bed. There were certain benefits, sure, you could gauge his reactions to certain things, but really, what it really was, is that old habits die hard and you know that you could just make him  _ache_  for you.

-x-

About an hour had gone by, an hour and you were 3 drinks past your 5 drink minimum. Starting to play a little more rough with tall dark and handsome’s inner monologue. At first it had been more subtle, just some light moaning from inside his melon. Every time he leaned down to you, trying to help line up your shot in a friendly game of pool, you’d pulse waves of moaning his name. And every time you could feel his muscles stiffen and shutter against your back. The effect you were having on him was more extreme than even you had anticipated. You were playing nicely, and still that devil in his eye looked like he would devour you.

So you decided to up the ante, why not? After all, what’s a last night on earth supposed to be for? It was your friends turn up to the shot, and you watched as Dean leaned back to take a good look, instead of helping her stroke. Moving your eyes across the room, you see Sam saunter off into the restroom. Now’s your chance, so you prepare a fantasy you have on file, for times just like this.

Closing your eyes, you take another sip from the Jack and Coke (that really only tasted like Coke at this point), and licked your lips preparing yourself. The trouble with this kind of telepathy is that you feel it too. Sending the vibration through the air, you need to vibrate on that level first. So everything that you think, everything that Sam is about to feel, you’ll feel too. You’ll feel it burning up your cheeks, and heating your center. Your whole body turns to fire while images flash behind your eyelids.

 _He grabs your hair away from your face gingerly before pushing back in again. Down your throat, you imagine his cock is as big as his body gives away. There’s tension on the sides of your lips even though your mouth is as slack as possible. Letting him drive in and out of you, doing all the work as you concentrate on not gagging too much. You look up in his eyes as he pulls out again, all the way this time, pulling your head back by the firm grasp in your hair. He holds himself at the base and smacks your outstretched tongue a few times before fucking your cheek, being able to see the entire outline of his head inside your cute little mouth. And he’s driving back into you again, hard and fast_ and you want to imagine the filthy things that might come out of his mouth too, but you’re edging off the end of your seat, and you don’t think your own body could handle much more.

The thought is quicker than it felt in your head, and Sam’s already coming out of the bathroom. You were trying to give him a little privacy after this,  _god_  he’d need it, but this was better. You liked to watch as they squirmed in their skin, slipping between uncomfortable and too comfortable. You blew him a kiss as his eyes made contact with yours, and you immediately saw them turn hungry. Hungrier. This was the thrill, this was what turned you on the most. Taking a man’s desire and amp-li-fying it to an almost tangible day dream, one that would only briefly appear, but would reverberate into his subconscious for hours.

Hungry dancing devil eyes prey on you as he moves across the room, you can almost feel his desire, can almost see how he’s finishing you off in his head, but it’s fuzzy and it’s only heat with no pictures. This wasn’t a two way street, but you could still taste his want for you as he got closer. Some men had that ability, some men could exude their sexual dominance. You couldn’t help flushing even more red, maybe because he was close enough to touch now, or maybe because you could see him trying to project his fantasies onto you. His breathe nearly close enough to brush against you, and his left hand sharply gripped at your bare thigh, forcing a dry moan out of the back of your throat. Staying stagnant before it hit your teeth, you tried to suck it back in but when you looked from his hand to his eyes again they were hungrier still. Dark and deep and menacing, and you knew he heard it. He flexed his jaw tightly, narrowing his eyebrows, “Let's  **go**.”

It lingers in your head, as you follow the tall figure out of the door, that he didn’t ask you. He didn’t ask, he just told you what to do. You felt yourself melting way down deep, and  _fuck_  if you’re not half scared out of your mind, but isn’t that the best part? And hey, if he was the crazy serial killer type, at least those hunters wouldn’t get the satisfaction.

 

-x-

 

Watching Sam as he made his way over to a black car you couldn’t name, you felt a giddiness in your stomach. Butterflies going at war with each other, and you weren’t sure how long you could wait. Weren’t sure who would actually go to make the first physical move. _No_ , you shook the idea out of your head immediately, he would initiate, he would _definitely_ initiate. Clued much too into body language you could tell when someone was more dominant or more submissive. Would they blush when you showed them a fantasy, turn away, get slightly uncomfortable, look at you in excited surprise? Or would they do what Sam had been doing all night? Getting closer, muscles tighter, cold calculated opportunity seeking body movements; Possessive arm touches, sardonic smiles, and dangerous banter, everything about him gave it away.

You continued to examine him, standing back from the car as he continued to fumble around his pockets for the keys you were fairly sure he must have forgotten inside. Because this is maybe the fourth time he’s going through that same pocket on his jacket, and _baby they’re not in there_. Whispering softly into his serotonin, Sam jumps at the inceptious idea and starts to stalk back inside. “Wait here,” he demands, and you do. Letting your mind wander off again, why did he and his friend share a car? Or did they say they were traveling? Did they say they were brothers? Did they say anything at all? It was hard to remember a conversation you weren’t really listening to. And it didn’t matter, all that mattered is that you’re even longer from being proved right. About his bedside manner, about his… _everything_. Thoughts shooting a spasm up into you, you find yourself recoiling, hips bucking into nothing but air, you put your hand out onto the car to steady yourself. Thoughts were too real, too touchable, too on the tip of your tongue and slicing through the air.

 _Where the_ fuck _is he?_ And as if you were able to read the future too, he stepped outside and threw his jacket down on the car. Looking infinitely more frustrated than before, he grabbed your hand hard and started pulling you across the parking lot. You didn’t know what exactly was happening, but you didn’t hate it. “What’s going on?” a part of you wanted to remind him that you had a voice, and a say in things too, if you choose.

Sam stopped and turned suddenly causing you to step right into him. He had been dragging you fairly quickly, now past the last few cars in the parking lot, your feet edging between loose gravel and dirt from the field next door to the tavern. “Dean won’t give me the keys,” he says through half gritted teeth.

Your frustration grew with his, along with slight confusion, “Wha-why not?”

He hasn’t moved much further away from you since you crashed into him. Your feet maybe six inches apart. You can see his chest moving up and down, heavy breathes from yelling or aggressively walking you weren’t sure, but the idea of angry sex when you both angry at someone else, excited you even more.  It took him a few moments to eventually spit out the reason, “He doesn’t think we’ll make it back to the hotel,” Sam pauses to look away from you, around the field, probably weighing options, “and sex in the Impala is off limits for me.”

You feel a half nervous half flirtatious laugh bubble in the back of your throat and you can’t help when it escapes your mouth. _Sex_ , he said it, and if there was any question in your mind his intentions with you before, they were all gone now. You could feel it warming your center, and cooling the air against your skin, giving you goosebumps. The tension was higher now, that you had laughed, even just a little bit. But his confidence didn’t waver, you were sure of it when he caught you off guard in a rough kiss. His mouth pressing against yours with no mercy, stuffing down whatever protests you could possibly have had. Standing in the middle of a nearly empty parking lot, he grabbed your hair and pulled your head closer still, as you opened your mouth and let his tongue inside. And he took liberties, shoving it as far in as it would go. Your lips open as wide as you could make them, and you can feel your teeth cutting the inside of your lips from the pressure but you don’t care. This forceful needy discourse was exactly what you looked for. Truth be told, you hadn’t invaded Sam’s mind as much as you had with most men you’d wanted, but it seemed like you didn’t have to. He was already teetering on just exactly the right type of aggressive; Almost scary, almost sweet, but _goddamn_ _insatiable_.

Your neck is craned as far back as you can make it, your back aching from the pressure and position as he fills your mouth over and over again. Wet and sloppy and Sam’s hand in your hair is the only thing keeping you still standing. You’re moaning his name in your head again, letting a couple slip into his and when they do his other hand snakes around your waist. Gently at first and then _fuck_ your whole chest is up against his and you can feel him through too many layers of clothing but he’s _so hard_ against you. Your hips buck up involuntarily to try and get your center close, close, closer to his. Your knees go weak against him, you’re not holding yourself up anymore. Tip toed, cradled, and engulfed in his embrace. You  were aching the way you wanted to make him ache; the way you knew he was.

 Mutual desire setting your tongues on fire for each other, and suddenly it’s not enough. He pulls your head away fiercely, making sure to keep a grip on you so you don’t fall to the ground, and scans the area again. You’re dizzy from the lack of oxygen, from the proximity of his body, and you let your head fall into his chest as he goes through his mind.  You try to help, because you know he wants to go somewhere, but no idea where to go. Through half lidded eyes, you scan the parking lot, the field, the... _shed?_ You squint trying to see if it is what it looks like, but by the time you decide it probably is, he’s already let you down to your feet and dragging you toward it.

 Picking up pace, half running along side of his long strides with your shorter ones, this was by far the most spon-tan-eous one night stand you’ve ever had. Or, few hour stand, doubting you’d spend the night together in the shed. Which as you come up on, you begin to see how run down it is. Full panels missing from the siding, and it’s likely the ceilings been gone for over a decade. But there’s no disgust, no more frustration. Honestly, this is some kind of oasis compared to the edge of the parking lot –

 _SLAM_ , pulled out of your thoughts by, what you’re quickly beginning to believe is, a god of a man, throwing you against what’s left of the wood structure. His body on top of yours instantaneously, that arm around your waist again, the other flat palmed above your head, and you hook your legs together behind his back and your hands go all over; through his hair, down his chest, across his arms, feeling the taught muscle underneath tee-shirt holding up your body weight. You lean back against the shed, his mouth moving across your neck, pulling at the skin as if he wanted to rip it off, you _ahhh_ -arch into him and give him more room for the assault on your neck. Your hair tickles the tips of his fingers, and he takes the opportunity, because all of a sudden your neck feels like its being broken from the force of the tug downward. You gasp, much louder than the small mews and light moans that had previously passed your lips, and you can feel Sam’s smile against the skin of your collar, “You like that, Y/N ?”

 _Oooh gOD,_ there it was, that filthy mouth coming out to play. You tried to nod, but his grip was far too tight and that made you shudder even more, “Yes.” You breathed aloud and into his head. Silently pulsing the notion to keep talking. Maybe, instead, that’s your favorite part.  Because you could make any man know what you liked, but hearing what they liked? Or what they wanted to do to you? It gave you a sweet release of control. Relinquished and reveling deep in the idea of escaping yourself. And for the very briefest moment you let the connection to Sam become more clear _use me, use me, use me, make me a slut for your cock_.

He grinds himself into you _hard_ and you gasp again, getting closer to your ear this time a viscous whisper, “Little slut for my cock, huh?” And you can feel real fear jump to your throat. No one besides your best friend is able to read the thoughts word for word, no one hears it that clearly. And no one’s ever repeated what you said unless that was the intention. He shouldn’t feel his mind invaded, that’s not how it worked. Thoughts feel organic, no matter where they come from. Most minds don’t know the difference. Can’t tell synapses from intrusion. Your skin cold, and there’s a lump in your throat and his hands on you feel more menacing than previous. You’re not moaning or writhing anymore, just stark silent and honest to god _afraid_.

 _Hunter_ , you thought and you pushed it at him. He laughed into your neck, louder than you were expecting, causing you to jump. “Took you long enough,” he pushes himself back from you, and lets your weight fall so you’re standing in front of him now. Bringing his fingers across your face, you try not to flinch away as he brushes some hair across your face. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes anymore, and you’re a hot second away from just fucking _running_ , but those fingers trail from hairline to jawline and snag your attention right back to him. “ Shame that pretty head of yours can’t read minds the way you manipulate them.”

There’s something in his voice that ease’s you. It’s his words and how they’re still dripping with that desire you recognize. Because it’s still burning deep and hot in you too, and maybe that was the most disappointing part of realizing he was a hunter. That you weren’t going to get fucked into oblivion, but maybe… maybe… You tried to see into his eyes, tried so hard to read his thoughts that it pained you. Just dying to know what would happen to you next. Or maybe you’d just be dying.

You stayed silent, not sure which question to ask first with so many just bu _zzzzzz_ ing around inside. Sam spoke up, though, and he answered every single one, “I decided earlier, I’m not going to kill you. And Dean, he’s probably not going to kill your friend either.” You could feel sighs of relief washing over your skin, one after another from your jaw where his skin met yours, all the way down to your toes. You closed your eyes in a silent ‘thank you’, before feeling that tug on you again, “ **Look** at me,” and all of a sudden his face was inches from yours, maybe closer, his words tickling at your nostrils, “that doesn’t mean I’m not going to _punish_ you. After all, isn’t that what bad girls _get_?”

 

The words snaked from his lips down to your pussy, and you feel it clench at the thought, you feel nothing else, hips frantically searching for pressure but finding nothing, your knees get weaker and you try to steady yourself by grabbing onto the fabric of Sam’s shirt. He pulls back when he feels your touch, and let’s go of your chin at the same time, causing you to fall to your knees. Which is, no doubt, exactly where he wanted you.

Your hands catch your fall, fingertips close to the toe of his shoes, you examine his pant legs unable to look up at him. In shame, or pride, or maybe you just wanted to play into his game. _Punish me, Sam . I’ve been a very bad girl_ \- So sweetly, and you know he can hear every word, sharp and still delicate going down into the marrow of his bones.  

After he grabs you by the hair again, his face close again and his breathe harsher now, somehow. Volatile and cold, and it felt like something inside of him snapped, “I don’t know why you won’t **look** at me – You didn’t have a problem _swallowing_ me all night.”

 _Please_. You begged. Something about knowing that Sam could hear your thoughts so clearly, that you could communicate to him without speaking, amp-li-fied your ability to submit, and _christ_ if you weren’t getting your comeuppance served on the most delicious silver dish.

He stood upright, pulling your hair back before letting go, sitting you upright. You watched, practically drooling, as he unbuckled his belt and fingered the button of his jeans just _teasing_ you. From the angle you were at, and the full moon in the sky, the outline of his cock, rock hard and aching, was just as impressive as you had guessed it. Not even ashamed to admit to yourself you felt lucky, and so very _ready_. You wanted him everywhere **now**.

You’re desperate thoughts continued, biting at your lip aggressively, and he’s reaching into his pants with one hand and shimmying them down with the other. You hardly have a moment to drink him in with your eyes, he strokes his cock only twice before gripping the top of your head pressing himself against your lips. You open them immediately and just fucking _melt_. Your eyes roll up to meet his before to the back of your head as you devour him. Your hands between your legs, Sam pumps in and out just like the fantasy you played for him earlier. The hand he was using to steady himself, left the base of his cock and snaked itself in your hair aside his other. And he shoved himself deep, deep, deeper down your throat, and he just _held you there_. You groaned into his head, _you like this_?

He pulled you off, never quite letting go of your hair, causing you to suck in as much air as you could, the idea of breathing had fallen out of your head. A silvery streak of saliva ran from the very tip of his desire to your bottom lip and you went in for him again, sucking it back in as slowly as possible. Letting your eyes snake up his body, and you see that he’s raised his shirt up just a little; just enough to make you even more aware of how _wet_ you could feel yourself getting. And you instinctively put your hands around his base, because there is no goddamn way you can swallow all of him, even pressing down the back of your throat. You push your legs together, trying to find some pressure against your clit, even though really your pining was much _much_ deeper.

You work your hands, both of them, as you suck on the head of his cock. Swirling your tongue in circles over the lines and ridges, flicking playfully, and all of a sudden he jerks your head back. * _pop*_ the suction breaking , hollow cheeks empty, and then you feel a sharp sting across your cheek and you process that he just slapped you and _ffffuck_ , it vibrates your whole body and you grind against the ground as his voice cuts the air, “You’re having too. Much. Fun.”

Your eyes, which had been closed from the shock of the smack, lid open to look into his eyes. But you couldn’t look at anything other than his _smile?_ And in a moment you were smiling too. Sick and twisted, but you were both loving absolutely every fucking second of this. In a moment of confidence you decided to play again, showing him images again. This time a vivid dream of your pretty pussy on display for him; _Pleasepleasedestroymewreckmepunishmeivebeenbadbadbad._

Sam laughed, that same laugh as before, absolutely sardonic, “I wanna hear you say it.” Leaning back, his whole everything glinting in the moonlight, impossible to take your eyes off of. You spoke into his cock, a barely audible whisper, “P-please.” Somewhere between the bar and here you’d been pushed to your most submissive state and you found it hard to speak.

“Please what?” He craned, every syllable hitting hard on his teeth and in your ear.

It took everything in you to look up at him, letting the sounds fall out of your mouth past your humiliated tongue, “I need-I need… **fuck** me.” Slightly afraid he’d say no. Because why would he want to give you what you desired? You could only hope that his will power wasn’t greater than his carnal desire. That somehow his idea of punishment wasn’t prolonging this longer.

Your hips hadn’t stopped grinding against the ground, even if you had wanted them to. So when Sam’s arms pull you to your feet, the cool air up your dress is disappointing, all you want is _heat_. He spins you around and pushes you into hard wood wall. Your face resting against it, he’s in your ear, his chest against your back, “ _I’m_ fucking _you_. **Not** the other way around. Remember that.”  _Yes, Sir._ He leaves one harsh hard bite high on your neck before he’s off you and his hand is on your hip, the other between your legs; just barely feeling the heat before he touches your cunt so lightly. The decision to not wear underwear creates a sharp inhale from behind you, and you take the short time of distraction to push back against him. Your hips further away from the wall, you try to edge yourself to a better angle, arching your back against his hand, still hardly touching you.

“So fucking wet for me,” there’s amusement in his tone. _Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease_ you beg, your mind unable to think about anything else. _Fillmefuckmeuseme._

And in one moment every inch of him inside of you, your eyes close tight. Flashes of red white black, stars of blue and purple, and your breath is in your throat, trying to hold back a scream. He doesn’t move an inch, just bruising fingers pushing harder against your skin, “You’re not getting any mercy, Y/N .”

He slides himself out, agonizingly slow, and all your focus is on the sensation between your legs. Sam’s throbbing cock stretching your tight pussy, making you feel so goddamn full. He slams himself deep into you again with just as much force as the first time, and you yelp at the feeling. Your one hand palms against the wall, the other goes to grip at his on your hip. Just hoping for something to hold onto, too aware that if he wasn’t squeezing you so tightly you’d have fallen to the ground.

Doing this a few more times, you start begging again, for more. It feels so good, so _fuckingohmygoodgod_ , but it’s not enough. You need more, you already feel like you want to cum and your g-spot is screaming for more attention. _Moremoremore_.

Immediately he picks up pace, rapid and passionate and rough, you can hardly breathe. He’s rocking into you so deeply, and his grunts echo in the air around you. Your hips start working with his, trying to meet his exertion with as much fervor, but as soon as you do he grabs at your throat. Pulling your head back against his chest, he never changes his speed. You’re weak against him in this position, “ _I’m_ fucking _you_.”  And he throws you back to where you were. Both of your hands flat in front of your face, keeping you from hitting your head. You’re moaning loud, half screams, half barely-able-to-breathe gasps.

He’s smacking your ass, and the stinging sound of skin on skin gives you a feeling in your chest that tightens and you’re unable to squeak out a sound anymore. The stars are back in your eyes, and you can feel yourself climbing quickly to climax, and you almost hope you can stave it off for just a bit longer. Because you don’t want this moment to be over. This was bliss, you bet that this is what heaven feels like. You hope to god it is.

Your muscles are tightening around his rage and you can feel his muscles tense, tenser still. His breathe getting shallow, grunts louder, then silent, no breathing, heavy breathing. He’s losing himself inside of you, and you’re completely unraveling under the idea and the weight of him. There is nothing in this moment but the sound of his skin on yours, him pulling your slick satiated fluid out and driving it back in again, the stars in your eyes, that cold sweat breaking out on the back of your neck and up and down your legs arms fucking _everywhere._ And you’re peak-piquing over the edge. Feels like you’re teetering on top of a mountain. You push the thoughts, every last fucking one, in his head. You let him feel every single thing you’re body is experiencing. Your climax is building deep in your muscles, tightening around bone. He holds you tighter, going faster, harder? How? Your mind is in your muscles, in every last sense, inside every nerve.

“ _Oooooaaah Go-ooood”_ It falls out of your mouth loud as you jump over the edge. Your hand shoots to his on your hip, fingernails driving into his flesh, and you hear him behind you expressing similar sentiments. Your pussy pulses around him, and you can feel it, your orgasm as violent as the act and your hips are bucking involuntarily back into Sam as he loses rhythm. You’re both spasming into each other and it’s the most satisfied you’ve felt in so damn long. And too soon you’re coming down, and his hands loosen from around you. Heart still racing, face still hot, you collapse on the ground unable to move.

Pathetic and sad and embarrassed, but so gratified, you bring yourself to look up at him when you can manage to open your eyes. The orgasm still rocking your body, you examine same as he pulls his pants back up, and puts himself away. Can’t help a groan of disappointment as his cock disappears behind fabric, but you quickly try to scan his face for answers. Now what?

His hand goes through his hair as he looks down on you, the other extends lazily to help you up. You take it graciously, not saying a word. Only fixing yourself like Sam had done, weary of his promise not to kill you earlier. Would he still mean it now that he’d gotten what he wanted.

“Listen-“ he starts and it nearly makes you jump, because your fear is real again, and unable to be masked by sexual tension, “If I killed someone after I had sex with them…. Then I’d be the monster.” He chuckled darkly to himself, you weren’t sure why. Hard to place feelings with your head still swimming and fear bubbling at the sides of it all. Though there was a sincerity in his voice that somehow lent comforting.

“Just, _ah_. Y/N just stop. What you’re doing. All of it. Use your head more.” He begins walking backward away from you, “Or less.” He winks at you, and turns around to continue on his way back to the parking lot. You smile to yourself, and sit back down on the ground to give yourself a few moments before following him back to the bar to call for a cab. Your friend probably left a long time ago, with Dean, and your keys.


End file.
